


King Likes to Ride

by kurokonekokilled



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Complete, D/s themes, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings, Shiro calls Ichigo King, Shiro makes bad puns, Sub Ichigo, dom shiro, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 06:05:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokonekokilled/pseuds/kurokonekokilled
Summary: Ichigo is a billionaire CEO AU. Ichigo prepares to make a big announcement at a huge press conference, but he's super dramatic about it and things go kinda sideways.





	King Likes to Ride

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have a ‘Shiro’ or a ‘Zangetsu’ on the list,” the short black haired woman said with a forced smile. “Might it be under another name?”

Shiro scowled, stuffing his fists in the pockets of the expensive suit he’d gotten just for this occasion. He wanted to surprise Ichi, to prove to him that he could be a proper boyfriend and behave in public, that he deserved to be more than a fuck buddy behind closed doors. However, this was testing his nerves.

Ichi had asked him to be there, had said he’d put him down as his plus one. He’d specifically requested that Shiro be present, Shiro hadn’t even had to ask himself. And yeah, it was probably just so Ichi wouldn’t have to wait for him to show up after the event was over to get laid, but he’d take what he could get.

It was better than nothing, at the very least.

“Those’re the only two names I go by,” he grunted, trying not to snap at the woman - Rukia, her name tag read. “Oh, uh, ‘m here with King, though,” he added.

“King?” she asked, puzzled, her head tilted to the side inquisitively. “Who’s King?”

Shiro stared at her like she had three heads. Sure, he was the one who’d originally coined the nickname, and yeah, it’d been said mockingly at the time, but it had become quite a popular way to refer to the multi-billionaire.

“Ichi,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Rukia gaped at him, her eyebrows flying toward her hairline.

“I-Ichi?” she spluttered. “As in Ichigo? Kurosaki Ichigo, the president of the company?”

Shiro snorted.

“Yeah, that’d be him.”

The girl continued to stare at him for another few moments, and Shiro was about to lose his temper when she pulled a com off her waistband and held it up to her face, clicking the button and waiting for static to sound.

“Renji, could you please ask Ich - uh, Kurosaki-dono if he’s waiting on a ‘Shiro’ or a ‘Zangetsu,’ please?”

Shiro caught the slip and grinned at her. He meant it to be friendly, joking, but from the look on her face, he assumed it was taken as hostile.

“Uh, you friends with the strawberry, too?” he queried, trying to make sure she knew he wasn’t being a dick.

Rukia looked a bit taken aback, but allowed a small smile to spread over her face before she responded.

“Ah, yes, we went to high school together, I’ve known him for quite a while. May I ask how you know him?” she asked politely.

He knew what she was asking, though.  _ How did a nearly six foot tall albino man with several ear piercings, a nose ring, tattooed scleras, and an attitude to rival Ichigo’s own manage to meet him, much less become friends with him?  _

“I was a delivery boy,” he chuckled. “Kisuke’s an old friend, and when he heard I needed a job, he offered to let me basically run mail for the HQ offices. I had to deliver a package to King one day, and we kinda got into a bit of a fight.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a pale hand sheepishly, pushing it through his shag of white hair.

Rukia chuckled, and he figured she’d heard the story, but he continued anyway. He liked telling it.

“He was in one of his moods, y’know how he gets, and he was bein’ all prissy and cold, and I said somethin’ bitchy about the humble servant needing the king to sign so I could afford bread for my family.” He paused as they both laughed. “So he said if he was the king, then that must make me the horse, and I, uh… I said something that I probably shouldn’t have said, and he decked me. Security came in and hauled my ass out of there after we were both good and bloody, and the next day I got a call asking me to come in and see him. Thought I was heading straight to jail, but I have zero impulse control, so I went. I showed up, he asked me to be his sparring partner, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

Well, he hadn’t technically asked him to be his sparring partner, it was closer to him pinning Shiro against his desk and sinking to his knees, telling him to put all that violence to good use, but those were just details.

Rukia laughed, clutching her stomach and trying to hold on to her composure so as to not attract attention. 

“He did tell me that, but he’d never tell me one thing,” she whispered, chuckling, as she leaned forward conspiratorially over the entrance desk. Shiro leaned in and cocked his brow inquisitively. “What the hell did you say to him that made him punch you?”

Shiro’s eyes filled with mirth, a wicked grin spreading across his lips as his tongue - stained, like always, from a blue raspberry lollipop - came out to wet his lips. He couldn’t hold back the pleased chuckle that escaped him. Honestly, he wasn’t one to brag, but that line had been one of his best.

“Well,” he stage whispered. “I said that if he was King, and I was the horse, then I hoped he-”

They were cut off by a low voice.

“Shiro,” Ichigo called, too far away to know what they were talking about, but not liking the evil smirk on the albino’s face.

“King,” the man responded, straightening up and looking Ichigo up and down appreciatively, although he managed not to lick his lips. “New suit? Looks good on ya.”

He wasn’t lying. It was tailored, slate grey, with a navy button down peeking out from under the jacket. It clung to Ichigo’s muscled thighs, and Shiro couldn’t help but image how they would look wrapped around his hips later that night.

“Thanks,” Ichigo responded blithely, knowing exactly what the younger man was thinking. “Got it a few weeks ago, figured now was as good an excuse as ever to wear it.”

Shiro smirked, but held his tongue as Ichigo turned to Rukia.

“Sorry, Ruk, I meant to ask you to put his name down, but Goat-Face and Kukaku have been all over me about the opening speech and Yuzu wouldn’t stop crying over how proud of me she was, and it kinda slipped my mind,” he said, shooting Shiro an apologetic glance.

The albino just shrugged. Ichigo could make it up to him on his knees later, and he wasn’t really all that upset over it.

He cast one last smile at Rukia, allowing himself to be guided back to Ichigo’s more private area, where only he, his family, and his plus one could enter. Thankfully, when they got there, Isshin and Kukaku had everyone huddled over something on the table, and Ichigo was able to smuggle Shiro into his dressing room and lock the door without anyone noticing. They’d all met Shiro, of course, and they all got along quite well, but they were also quite… intense. He couldn’t imagine what they’d be like if they knew what he did to their precious Ichigo damn near every night.

“Not very nice to forget to put my name on the guest list, King,” Shiro scolded playfully, smirking in the redhead’s direction.

Ichigo didn’t respond for a moment, taking out his phone and checking the time, a brief smile lighting his face as he slipped it back into his pocket and sidled up to Shiro, placing his hands placatingly on the younger man’s collarbones and brushing away the creases. He looked up into those entrancing black eyes and Shiro nearly groaned at the molten honey look that was being sent his way.

“Aw, ‘m sorry,” Ichigo whispered, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed slightly in a look of perfect innocence. At least, it would’ve been perfect if not for the insistent erection pressing into Shiro’s hip. “Can I make it up to you?”

The little brat was biting his lip, using that sugar-sweet voice that never failed to make all of Shiro’s blood rush straight to his cock. Shiro’s dark eyes narrowed as he looked down at the older man, one arm curling around his waist while the other reached up so he could thread his fingers through the mop of orange hair. Luckily, it was always messy, so no one would question a few strands being out of place.

“I might accept that apology if you didn’t plan the whole thing, you spoiled little brat,” Shiro growled into his ear, twisting his fingers in his hair just so he could hear the little gasp that Ichigo would inevitably let out.

“Is it that obvious?” Ichigo laughed huskily, letting his head fall back at another harsh tug of Shiro’s long fingers. 

Shiro hummed his agreement.

“You never forget anything, King, no matter how overwhelmed you are.” He kissed lightly down the elegant arch of Ichigo’s throat, refraining from nipping and sucking marks into his skin, knowing Ichigo had to go out on stage soon. He’d save the hickies for later, and would probably have to leave them only on his chest and thighs, so they wouldn’t be seen, no matter how badly he wanted to viciously mark the man in his arms as his, and only his.

Leaning back, he pulled Ichigo up until he was staring into those liquid brown eyes, half lidded with want already. Shiro had been a little late, but he hadn’t been expecting to see Ichigo until after the event was over. The redhead had probably been thinking about this, hard as a rock, for who knows how long. Well, they had twenty minutes, so he’d make the best of that time. 

“You can make it up to me with that pretty little mouth, King,” he growled at the man in his arms, loving the shudder that wracked his lithe frame. 

Ichigo went boneless in his grasp, sliding down his front and landing on his knees at Shiro’s feet gracefully. Those eyes were looking up at him, all that teasing innocence back in full force, and his fingers made quick work of Shiro’s belt and zipper. He yanked the white slacks down to Shiro’s knees with his boxers, deciding that would give him plenty of room to work his magic on the perfect cock bobbing in front of his face. 

“Thank you,” Ichigo moaned, hot breath hitting the head of Shiro’s length.

He leaned up so he could take the head into his mouth, holding his hands behind his back like he’d been taught. The first time they’d been together outside of his office, Shiro had cuffed his hands behind his back and told him that if he couldn’t make him cum without them, Shiro would leave him cuffed on the floor like that in a cock ring with his favorite vibrator up his ass for the whole weekend. 

Needless to say, Ichigo had gotten really good at sucking cock without his hands over the past few years. And he’d also learned just how much he fucking  _ loved  _ it. He adored the way he could make Shiro’s knees tremble, the breathless moans of his name that fell from pale lips when Shiro was close, the taste of him coating his tongue and sliding down his throat, the feel of it throbbing in his mouth. 

So he didn’t waste any of their precious little time, running his tongue over the head and swallowing down the drops of precum that had formed there, groaning at the taste. As his eyes fluttered closed in bliss, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked just hard enough to have Shiro’s other hand flying to his head and clutching as his legs shook. He smiled around the thickness filling his mouth at the breathy little moan that floated down from above him.

Shiro had always told him that he had the best cocksucking mouth in the world, and Ichigo had no problems believing him, considering how often the younger man made use of his mouth. He loved the way Shiro would just grab him and push him to his knees when they were at either of their apartments, loved how loud the man would get when they truly had privacy. But right now, he loved how absolutely filthy he felt with Shiro’s cock pushing into his mouth and both hands wrapped in his hair.

He was on his knees in one of the most opulent sitting rooms he’d ever been in, about to give a speech to nearly ten thousand reporters, the most gorgeous cock he’d ever seen pushing past his lips again. Ichigo moaned around Shiro as he thought of how he must look in his tailored Armani suit, being used like a common whore.

Then he moaned again as Shiro’s hips stuttered forward at the vibrations, quiet curses biting through the air. He opened his eyes, locking gazes with the absolutely perfect man looming over him, and took every last inch of him deep into his throat, swallowing around him and feeling wave after wave of bliss wash over him as Shiro’s grip tightened in his hair. Those pale hips made one last sharp thrust, holding Ichigo down as he spilled himself right down the older man’s throat. 

Finally, he let Ichigo up, his dick giving an interested twitch as he watched the man gasp in air, strands of saliva still connecting that gorgeous mouth to his slowly softening cock. He watched as Ichigo tried to catch his breath, pulling up his pants and boxers, but not bothering with the fastenings or his belt. Instead, he squatted down in front of the redhead, yanking his belt open and dragging his slacks down slim hips, hand immediately going to the throbbing bulge in Ichigo’s boxers.

He leaned forward, allowing his lips to brush over the man’s ear as he spoke, grinning while Ichigo gasped at the pleasure.

“You wanna cum for me, you spoiled brat?” he growled, nipping sharply at his earlobe.

Ichigo let out a pleading moan, his hands coming up to clutch onto Shiro’s shoulders, hips pistoning into that large, pale hand.

“Please,” he nearly sobbed.

Shiro chuckled lowly into his ear, letting out an approving hum as one hand slipped inside his boxers, the other pulling the constricting garment down with his pants. His fingers tightened over Ichigo’s cock, stroking harshly, just how he liked it.

He growled into the man’s ear, loving the way it made him shiver.

“Make a mess of yourself right in my hand,” he commanded. “Cum for me, King.”

Shiro’s voice felt like a caress of silk against Ichigo’s burning cock, and he sobbed in relief as those treasured words were spoken, his head falling back in ecstasy as he did exactly as he was told, spilling himself over Shiro’s knuckles. Another soft whine followed a harsh shudder as his body finally finished, legs giving out on him as Shiro guided him down into his lap.

“Such a good boy,” Shiro whispered into his ear, pressing fluttering kisses across his jaw and throat as he cleaned them both off with the extra pocket square he’d brought with him, just in case. 

Tossing the fabric to the side, he pulled Ichigo closer, never ceasing his kisses as he tugged the boxers and tailored slacks back up perfect, creamy thighs, zipping them up and buckling the dark belt. He reached between them and did the same for himself, his free hand rubbing up and down Ichigo’s side.

Shiro always loved seeing him like this, blissed out and floaty, like Shiro’s cock was the best drug in the world. He smiled as his heart clenched, pressing another kiss to Ichigo’s cheek as the older man stirred and smiled at him. 

“Thank you,” he repeated, nuzzling into Shiro’s jaw for a second before standing up and brushing his knees clean.

He looked down at Shiro, a blush spreading across his face as he held a hand out and helped the younger man up. A squeak escaped him as he was yanked forward into a muscled chest, a firm hand gripping his chin and tilting his head up. Supple lips captured his own, making him melt into the strong hold. 

Ichigo loved the way Shiro kissed him, like it was the first time every single time. It was never rushed, but always hungry, always demanding, always so passionate that it took his breath away. He nearly protested when Shiro pulled back, but before he could, there was a knock at the locked door, and Isshin’s voice was calling through the door.

“Ichigo, my darling son, it’s time! Go out there and make your wonderful father proud!”

Ichigo rolled his eyes, straightening his jacket and shooting Shiro a smile before slipping out of the room. Shiro could hear the roar of the crowd, the clicking of cameras, and he wished he was out there right now. The man always looked so beautiful under stage lights, talking to thousands of people. But he’d stay put so he didn’t alert Ichigo’s family of his presence, or embarass Ichigo in any way, no matter how bitter the thought made him.

He was called out of his thoughts several minutes later when Yoruichi, Ichigo’s aunt and Kisuke’s best friend, peeked her head in.

“Shiro?” she called, laughing as he nearly toppled the bench he’d been sitting on, blood rushing to his face. 

Gods, he hoped she didn’t say anything about him being in there to anyone, Ichigo would be pissed. Yeah, he hated keeping them a secret, but he’d do anything if it meant he could keep Ichigo in his life.

“Uh, hey, Auntie Yor,” he replied hesitantly.

“Oh don’t be shy, Shiro,” she reprimanded, hands going to her slim waist as she smirked at him wickedly. “Ichi-bo wanted me to ask you to come watch with the rest of the family, said it was important to him but he was too nervous to ask himself.”

She was grinning like it was all a big joke, like Shiro’s heart wasn’t pounding a mile a minute, but if that’s what Ichigo had requested, he’d do it. But why the hell would he ask Yoruichi to come get him? Why be too nervous to ask him himself? And why did he want him with his family? He was always so nervous about them finding out when Shiro was around them.

But he didn’t have time to ask any questions as Yoruichi grabbed him by the shoulders and steered him out of the room toward the left wing of the stage where Ichigo’s family was watching, beaming with pride.

Surprisingly, they all turned when they heard their footsteps, greeting the pair with smiles and ushering Shiro to the front of the group to stand next to Isshin. His mouth went dry in terror as Isshin squeezed his shoulder firmly, a kind smile on his face, but then went dry in pure awe as he looked at Ichigo.

That orange hair was messy and spiky, shining in the lights like a halo, his brown eyes seemed to shimmer animatedly, a wide smile on his beautiful face. Shiro knew his heart skipped a beat at the sight. Gods, he was so head over heels for this man.

“Now, I’m so very grateful that you all would so kindly listen to me drone on about the newest addition to Seireitei Corporations, but there’s actually another reason why I held this gala for you all tonight.” 

The redhead took a deep, nervous breath, his smile widening as a blush spread across his face charmingly.

“There has been quite a lot of speculation about my private life, as I do like to keep it very, very private,” he said, pausing for the crowd to laugh. “But, I would like to clear up some rumors, if only so I can stop being annoyed by them myself.”

Again, the crowd laughed, but Shiro’s heart sank. It made sense why they’d brought him out now. The whole family had heard the two of them argue about Ichigo needing to clear up the rumors swirling about him and numerous celebrity figures. They’d accepted that it was just because he wanted Ichi to stand up for himself.

So now, he was going to stand up for himself. He was going to tell five thousand reporters that he wasn’t involved with whoever the rumors supplied, wasn’t involved with anyone, had no one special in his life in that regard. And Shiro was supposed to stand there with his family and cheer him on for taking a stand against the spiralling rumors.

Tears were already pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“I am not dating Shinji,” he started, laughing when the blond in question peaked out from behind the curtains beside Shiro.

“Sorry, Ichi, you’re not my type,” he called out over the laughter of the crowd.

“I’m also not dating Nnoitra,” he continued. 

“I’m Shin’s type,” the tall man jeered as he reached out and pulled his short blond boyfriend back into the wing.

Cameras were clicking and pens were scribbling madly as Ichigo went on.

“Thanks for the interruptions, children,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I’m not dating Starrk, Orihime, Tatsuki, Sado, Kugo, Yumichika, Ikkaku, Shuuhei, Kira, Zaraki, Gin, Grimmjow, Sosuke, Nel, or literally anyone else you guys have managed to think up,” he finished, huffing out a breath at the end.

Shiro sighed, trying to hide his anger, his pain, as Ichigo’s family practically buzzed in pride and excitement beside him.

“You guys haven’t managed to figure out who I’m dating, because I’m not dating anyone,” Ichigo stated firmly.

There it was. Shiro almost dropped to the ground in agony, his heart feeling like it was trying to rip itself out of his chest. This hurt a hell of a lot more than he ever thought it would, probably because he was supposed to be happy for Ichigo, and Ichigo would still probably want to fuck after this was done. 

He’d be all pumped up on adrenaline and pride, and Shiro would say yes, because he couldn’t say no, he couldn’t turn Ichi away,

“But, if all goes well, that’s going to change right now,” Ichigo stated. “Either that or I’m about to get my ass kicked, so make sure you’re filming,” he joked, but the tension and nerves in his voice were clear.

Ichigo turned to the wing, beaming smile on his face, but it faltered at what he saw. Shiro wasn’t standing there confused, bewildered, happy. No, tears were streaming down his face silently, his hands clenched into fists as his entire body shook. His eyes were scrunched shut so he couldn’t see anything, and Ichigo wasn’t sure if anything he was saying was registering to the man at all.

Fuck.

“Shiro?” he asked hesitantly, his hand with the mic in it falling slightly. 

The man didn’t even move, just stood there shaking, and Ichigo was sure that he hadn’t heard the last few sentences. Shit.

He hurried over to the wing, not caring about his audience anymore. He’d meant this to be good, to have Shiro in his arms and kissing him in front of the cameras, to finally be able to give the man the openness he wanted. All of the senior officers at his company had stopped giving him trouble, he'd gotten permission to go public with both his sexuality and his relationship from the Shiba clan head, this was supposed to be good, goddamnit, happy.

His hands curled around Shiro’s shoulders, Isshin gently taking the mic from him. 

“Shiro?” he tried again.

Ichigo flinched when those dark eyes he loved so much snapped open and glared at him. The hurt swimming in them was palpable, the fury so ripe he could taste it. 

“Shiro, please, you didn’t hear-”

“Congratulations,” Shiro choked out. “You fucking asshole. Fuck. You.”

His chest was too tight to say anything more, all he could do was knock Ichigo’s hands off his shoulders and turn to stalk away, pushing his way through the Kurosaki family, furious, heartbroken tears drenching his face.

“Shiro, fuck, stop!” Ichigo called out, panic in his voice.

Why was he panicking? He’d gotten what he’d wanted.

“Damnit, Shirosaki! Turn around and let me tell you I love you, you stupid son of a bitch!”

Shiro nearly tripped, his body stopping just past Yoruichi at the back of the group, that grin still on her face. He slowly turned, his blood freezing. He’d misheard him. Ichigo didn’t love him, and he knew that for a fact after he just told everyone he wasn’t dating anyone. 

Dark eyes watched as Ichigo stepped forward, his hands shaking desperately.

“Let me try this again,” he said, his voice cracking, staring straight into Shiro’s eyes. “I’m not dating anyone, because I haven’t asked the man I love if he’ll do me the honor of being my boyfriend.”

Shiro’s jaw dropped as he looked into his favorite shade of brown beginning to swim with tears, hope beginning to fill him.

“However, I’m an idiot, and didn’t think that my stupid, dramatic way of doing things would make him freak out and think that I was denouncing our relationship. So, because I’m a moron, I’m going to ask plainly so that I don’t lose you, because I don’t know what I’d do if I did.”

Both of them took deep, shaky breaths as they stared at each other. 

“Shiro, please stop crying, please kiss me, and  _ please _ say that you’ll be my boyfriend.”

Ichigo’s eyes were locked with his, their hearts beating out of their chests as they stood in front of each other.

Shiro blinked once, twice, and then he was moving forward and pulling Ichigo against his chest, crushing their lips together almost violently. His heart swelled in his chest, and he felt a few more tears slip down his cheeks as he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. He never thought he would get to do this in front of everybody, never thought Ichigo would announce it to the fucking press.    
But gods, he’d never been happier in his entire life.

Finally, they pulled back, both of them panting, tears streaking both of their cheeks. Ichigo laughed out in a broken voice, chest tight with emotion, as he laid his forehead against Shiro’s and breathed in his scent.

“So is that a yes?” he asked breathlessly.

Shiro laughed down at him, picking him up and holding him close as those long legs wrapped around his hips, rocking him in his arms. This wasn’t how he’d imagined being between Ichigo’s thighs tonight, but it was so,  _ so _ much better.

“Yes, you absolute moron,” he laughed, adjusting his hold on Ichigo so he could wipe a tear from his eye.

“I thought I told you to stop crying, too,” Ichigo teased as he pressed a kiss to the younger man’s forehead.

“Oh, shut up,” Shiro laughed.

After a while, the pair finally disentangled themselves, straightened their clothes, and walked out on stage, hand in hand. Apparently, Isshin had sneakily been holding the mic pretty close to them, so the audience had gotten the gist of what happened. 

Ichigo held him close, answering a few of the shouted questions before looking up at his  _ boyfriend _ \- gods, he’d never get tired of saying that. Threading a hand through that soft white hair, he pulled the man into a searing kiss, moaning at the taste of him, his heart filled with joy at finally being able to do this.

Shiro took one look at him and pulled the mic from his hand.

“Sorry, gonna have to take my  _ boyfriend _ away from you all for a while; I’ll send him back later,” Shiro promised, listening as laughter and catcalls and questions followed him as he picked up the smaller man bridal style and carried him back towards the waiting room they’d been in.

“Wanna take a ride, King?” Shiro murmured into his ear as he kicked the door closed behind them, repeating the words that had caught the attention of the man in his arms so many years ago.

Ichigo just laughed, shaking his head and leaning up to give the younger man a deep, loving kiss. 

“I love you so much that I’m not even gonna deck you for that this time,” Ichigo grumbled at him, a smile alight in his eyes.

Shiro put him down and pressed him against the door, kissing him breathless, hands clutching at his hips hard enough to leave marks, just like Ichigo liked it.

“Say it again,” Shiro growled against his throat, finally marking him like he wanted to. “Tell me you love me again.”

Ichigo gasped as teeth nipped at the sensitive skin, tongue laving over the bite before lips came to suck a mark right above his collarbone where everyone would see it.

“I love you,” he gasped out, fisting his hand in all that white hair, yanking him back up for another heartstopping kiss.

Shiro pulled back, grinning drunkenly.

“I love you, King, and I’m never gonna let you go,” he promised.


End file.
